Volume I Part 49 (1/2)

Don't look out; keep your eyes and mouth shut tight. I'll take care of you.” Down flat dropped Maggie on the bottom, without waiting to hear the train. Soon the steam-whistle screamed in front, instead of rear, as expected! Short about she turned the horse, and away he sprang, the express thundering in the rear.

For a mile the road was a straight, dead level, and right along the track. At utmost speed the frantic animal strained on. On plunged the train behind. Neither gained nor lost. No sound came but the rus.h.i.+ng of steed and train. It was a race for life, and the blood horse won. Then, as the road turned from the track up a long slope, the train shot by, taming the horse's fright; but, as his blood was up, she kept him hard pushed to the crest of the slope, then slacked his pace, and headed him homeward. Faithful Maggie stuck fast to her promise and to the wagon-bottom, until told, ”It's all over,” when she broke silence with her wonderments. When she got home the kitchen rang with exclamations. That race was long her standing topic, she always insisting that she wasn't scared a bit, not she, because she ”knew the missus wasn't.”

While living in New Jersey, word came that a colored man and his wife, who had just come to the towns.h.i.+p, were lying sick of malignant small-pox, and that none of their neighbors dared go to them. She immediately sought them out, and found them in a deplorable plight, neither able to do anything for the other, and at once became to them eyes, hands, feet, nurse, care-taker and servant in all needed offices; and thus, relieved in nursing and watching by a friend, her patients were able, after three days, to minister in part to each other. Meanwhile, no neighbor approached them.

Some striking traits were scarcely known, except by her special intimates; and they were never many. Her fidelity in friends.h.i.+p was imperishable. Friends might break with her; she never broke with them, whatever the wrong they had done her. She never stood upon dignity, nor exacted apology, nor resented an unkindness, though keenly feeling it; and, if falsely accused, answered nothing. She never spoke disparagingly of others, unless clearest duty exacted it. Gossips, tattlers, and backbiters were her trinity of horrors. Her absolute truthfulness was shown in the smallest things. With a severe sincerity, it was applied to all those customs looked upon as mere forms involving no principle--customs exacting the utterance of what is not meant, of wishes unfelt, sheer deceptions. She never invited a visit or call not desired. If she said, ”Stay longer,” the words voiced a wish felt. She could not be brought under bondage to any usage or custom, any party watch-word, or s.h.i.+bboleth of a speculative creed, or any mode of dress or address. In Charleston, she was exact in her Quaker costume, because, to the last punctilio, it was an anti-slavery doc.u.ment; and for that she would gladly make any sacrifice of personal comfort. But, among the ”Friends” in Philadelphia, she would not wear an article of dress which caused her physical inconvenience, though it might be dictated by the universal usage of ”Friends.” Upon first exchanging the warmth of a Carolina winter for the zero of a Northern one, she found the ”regulation” bonnet of the ”Friends” a very slight protection from the cold. So she ordered one made of fur, large enough to protect both head and face. For this departure from usage, she was admonished, ”It was a grief to 'Friends,'” ”It looked like pride and self-will,” ”It was an evil example,” etc. While adhering strictly to the principles of ”Friends,” neither she nor her sister Sarah could conform to all their distinctive usages, nor accept all their rules. Consequently, their examples were regarded as quiet protests against some of the settled customs of the Society. Such they felt bound to make them in word and act.

Thus they protested against the negro-seat in their meeting-house, by making it their seat. They also felt constrained to testify against a rule requiring that no Friend should publish a book without the sanction of the ”Meeting for Sufferings”; so, also, the rule that any one who should marry out of the Society should, unless penitent, be disowned.

Consequently, when Angelina thus married, she was disowned, as was Sarah for sanctioning the marriage by her presence. The committee who ”dealt” with them for those violations of the rule, said that if they would ”express regret,” they would relieve the meeting from the painful necessity of disowning them. The sisters replied that, feeling no regret, they could express none; adding that, as they had always openly declared their disapproval of the rule, they could neither regret their violation of it, nor neglect so fit an occasion for thus emphasizing their convictions by their acts; adding that they honored the ”Friends” all the more for that fidelity which constrained them to do, however painful, what they believed to be their duty.

Angelina's ”Appeal to the Christian Women of the South” ”made her a forced exile from her native State.” As she never voluntarily spoke of what she had done or suffered, few, if any, of the Abolitionists, either knew then, or know now, that she was really exiled by an Act of the Charleston city government. When her ”Appeal” came out, a large number of copies were sent by mail to South Carolina. Most of them were publicly burned by postmasters.

Not long after this, the city authorities learned that Miss Grimke was intending to visit her mother and sisters, and pa.s.s the winter with them. Thereupon the mayor of Charleston called upon Mrs. Grimke, and desired her to inform her daughter that the police had been instructed to prevent her landing while the steamer remained in port, and to see to it that she should not communicate, by letter or otherwise, with any persons in the city; and, further, that if she should elude their vigilance, and go on sh.o.r.e, she would be arrested and imprisoned, until the return of the steamer. Her Charleston friends at once conveyed to her the message of the mayor, and added that the people of Charleston were so incensed against her, that if she should go there, despite the mayor's threat of pains and penalties, she could not escape personal violence at the bands of the mob. She replied to the letter, that her going would doubtless compromise her family; not only distress them, but put them in peril, which she had neither heart nor right to do; but for that fact, she would certainly exercise her const.i.tutional right as an American citizen, and go to Charleston to visit her relatives, and, if for that the authorities should inflict upon her pains and penalties, she would willingly bear them, a.s.sured that such an outrage would help to reveal to the free States the fact that slavery defies and tramples alike const.i.tutions and laws, and thus outlaws itself.

When the American Anti-Slavery Society wrote to Miss Grimke, inviting her to visit New York city, and hold meetings in private parlors with Christian women, on the subject of slavery, upon reading their letter, she handed it to her sister Sarah, saying, ”I feel this to be G.o.d's call. I can not decline it.” A long conversation followed, the details of which I received from Sarah not long after; and, as they present vividly the marked characteristics of both sisters, I give in substance such as I can recall.

S.--But you know that you are const.i.tutionally retiring, self-distrustful, easily embarra.s.sed. You have a morbid shrinking from whatever would make you conspicuous.

A.--Yes, you have drawn me to the life. I confess that I have all that, and yet at times I have nothing of it. I know that I am diffident about a.s.suming responsibilities; but when I feel that anything is mine to do, no matter what, then I have no fear.

S.--You are going among strangers, you wear strange garments, speak in a strange language, will be in circ.u.mstances wholly novel, and about a work that you never attempted, and most of those who will listen to you have prejudices against Abolitionists, and also against a woman's speaking to any audience. Now in all there embarra.s.sing circ.u.mstances, and in your lack of self-confidence when you come to face an unsympathizing audience, does not it seem likely that you will find it impossible to speak to edification, and thus will be forced to give it up altogether?

A.--Yes, it seems presumptuous for me to undertake it; but yet I can not refuse to do it. The conviction is a part of me. I can not absolve myself from it. The responsibility is thrust upon me.

I can not thrust it off.

S.--I know you will not and can not. My only desire is for you deliberately to look at all things just as they are, and give each its due weight. If, after that, your conviction is unchanged, with my whole heart I'll help you to carry it out.

There is but one thing more that I think of. If you were to go upon this mission without the sanction of the ”Meeting for Sufferings,” it would be regarded as disorderly, a violation of the established usage of the Society, and they would probably feel compelled to disown you. [This was prior to the disownment that followed the marriage].

A.--As my mind is made up absolutely to go, I can not ask their leave to go. For their fidelity to their views of duty, I honor them. It is a grief to me to grieve them, but I have no alternative. Very unpleasant it will be to be disowned, but misery to be self-disowned.

S.--I have presented these considerations, that you might carefully traverse the whole question and count all the costs. I dare not say a word against your decision. I see that it is final, and that you can make no other. To me, it is sacred. While we have been talking, I, too, have made my decision. It is this: where you go, I will go; what you do, I will to my utmost help you in doing. We have always thought and wept and prayed together over this horrible wrong, and now we will go and work together. There will be a deal to be done in private also; that I can help you about, and thus you will have the more strength to give to the meetings.

So Miss Grimke wrote at once to the committee, accepting their invitation, thanking them for the salary offered, but declining to receive any; informing them that her sister would accompany her, and that they should both go exclusively at their own expense.

In 1864, Mr. and Mrs. Weld removed to Hyde Park, where the sisters spent the rest of their days. No one who met Angelina there would have any suspicion of the great work which she had done: she was interested in her household duties, and the little charities of the neighborhood.

Once, during the war, she was persuaded to go out of her daily routine, and to attend a small meeting called for the purpose of a.s.sisting the Southern people--freedmen, and those who had formerly held them in slavery. Very simply and modestly, but very clearly and impressively, she spoke of the condition of things at the South, of her friends there, and how we could best help them--all in the most loving and tender spirit, as if she had only grateful memories of what they had been, and as if no thought of herself mingled with the thought of them. The simplicity, directness, and practical good sense of her speech then, its kindliness toward those who had done her the greatest wrong, and the entire absence of self-consciousness, made those who heard her feel that a woman might speak in public without violating any of the proprieties or prejudices of social traditions and customs. There was a refinement and dignity about her, an atmosphere of gentleness and sweetness and strength, which won their way to the heart. To those who knew her history, there was something very affecting, sublime, in her absolute self-forgetfulness. As one who knew her most intimately said, ”She seems to have been born in that mood of mind which made vanity or display impossible. She was the only person I have ever known who was absolutely free from all ambition.”

s.p.a.ce prevents a fitting record of the n.o.ble words and deeds of Sarah Moore Grimke. She published in 1838, a volume of ”Letters on the Equality of the s.e.xes,” which called out much discussion on woman's position in both State and Church. The last time Angelina spoke in public was at the Loyal League Convention in New York in 1863. She took an active part in the discussion of resolutions, speaking clearly and concisely on every point, and read a beautiful address she had prepared--”To the Soldiers of our Second Revolution.” All through the years that Angelina was ill.u.s.trating woman's capacity on the platform by holding her audiences spell-bound, Sarah was defending woman's right to be there with her pen.

FOOTNOTES:

[59] Mrs. Ellet's ”Women of the Revolution.”

[60] Angelina E. Grimke.

[61] This building, the property of Jacob Peirce, was thus imperilled with his free consent.

[62] The a.s.sembly Buildings, opened to us by the kindness of the lessee, Mr. John Toy.